The Experimental Files
by Lillypop414
Summary: When second chances start smacking you in the face, I think it's time to start paying attention to what's in front of you. "Ohmigod, I am so sorry!" I sputter, looking at my empty lunch tray and the lasagna on Sasuke's shirt. Let's try this again. SxS AU


**The**

**Experimental Files**

_lillypop414_

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><p><strong>MAIN SET CHARACTERS: <strong>

_HARUNO SAKURA _

_HYUUGA HINATA_

_HYUUGA NEJI_

_INUZUKA KIBA _

_NARA SHIKAMARU _

_UCHIHA SASUKE_

_UZUMAKI NARUTO_

_YAKABUSHI TENTEN _

_YAMANAKA INO_

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><p><strong>MAIN LOCATIONS:<strong>

_KONOHA_, FIRE COUNTRY

**KONOHA EAST FIRE COUNTRY HIGH SCHOOL

**KONOHA WEST FIRE COUNTRY HIGH SCHOOL

_OTO_, RICE FIELD COUNTRY

**SOUND COMMUNITY HIGH SCHOOL

_SUNA_, WIND COUNTRY

**SUNAGAKURE TOWNSHIP HIGH SCHOOL

_KUMO_, LIGHTNING COUNTRY

**RAIKAGE ELITE'S KUMOGAKURE COMMUNITY HIGH SCHOOL

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><p><em><strong>ACT I<strong>_

_**SCENE ONE**_

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><p><strong>INT. HARUNO HOUSEHOLD – EARLY MORNING<strong>

_1342 Sunset Place_

_A quiet, humble red and brown brick house in a suburban subdivision. Various lawn ornaments lay on the freshly cut, clean emerald grass. A fountain sprinkled on the porch and occasional drops water the magnolias in a red clay pot nearest it._

**SAKURA rushes through her room searching for the perfect pair of shoes to match her outfit. INO awaits impatiently the discovery of her best friend's shoes.**

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><p>"Hurry the freaking fry up, Sakura," Ino groaned, stretching her long limbs out on my bed. Her honey golden hair was stringed into a tightly looped ponytail, a side bang framing her face. She was a pretty girl with a fresh face and a cheery smile was always present. However, a grimace currently danced upon her features. "It's not even the first day of school and you're taking so very long." She continued, drawling.<p>

I eyed her with my evil eye and I tried my best to turn her summer into a vicious winter with just my glare. When all she did was sit up and look confusedly toward me, I sighed and pouted, deciding in an instant that hurling an old pair of boat shoes at her face would have to suffice. I could hear the leather smacking my bedroom wall and plopping to the floor.

A throaty laugh met my ears next. "You totally missed, Forehead," Ino giggled.

Muttering a short, "Whatever," toward either the annoying nickname she had tagged onto my existence or the fact that I had tried to make myself believe that that was not the wall my shoe hit but Ino's body getting hit by my shoe, the force so strong that she rammed into the wall, I turned back to my closet with a huff. Whichever the reasoning, I was now aggravated in my shoe search.

I brushed through all the high heels, tossing them aside in the most ungraceful manner, for I knew that going a whole day with those shoes on my feet would end with nothing more than throbbing pained feet, bruised knees and embarrassment. I know that I am clumsy, so there is no point in embracing such an injurious trait. Next, I pushed away heavy tennis shoes that only see the light of day during the fall schooldays, and only so then when we had Casual Fridays.

"Did you borrow my sneaker heels, Ino?" I finally ask, pissed because in the organizational pattern of my closet—now a messy pile of shoes and mounds of clothes—in between heels and tennis shoes I should find my sneaker heels. A headache ba-dumped against my skull as I listened to her thinking, "Well," drawled out in fifteen beats. I stuck my head out and peered at her. "Well, what, Ino? Do you have my sneaker heels?"

She peaked over the newest edition of _Seventeen_ magazine, a light pink blush painted upon her face. "I don't really know what you're talking about ho-bag," her eyes flashed back downward, "We don't even wear the same size."

Sun pooled into my bedroom, or maybe I just didn't noticed the brightness crouched inside of my walk-in closet, but as I stood, knees popping in defiance, light bombarded my eyes. My hands went up instinctively as my nose scrunched. When I adjusted to the light, I strolled in my sock feet over to Ino's sandals. Her eyes left the magazine smoothly, and she bit her lip, "What're you doing, Sakura-chan?"

I bent at the waist and grasped her sandal just as she did. We glared at each other at a deadlock over the pink Pink sandal from Victoria's Secrets. Her right hand clutched the shoe whereas the left hand held her page of _Seventeen_. "I don't think you want to flip over that shoe," she said lowly.

"Why would I not, Pig that wears a size eleven?" I bartered.

Her blue eyes narrowed. "I do not wear an eleven! What am I, giant-foot?"

"You are until you prove otherwise."

The tension grew pregnant in the room as she thought over her decision, observing my words and if there were loopholes in my plot. I then wondered if I was too obvious in my attempts to discovering her shoe size. However, the thought sizzled into nothingness as her grip wavered from the flip-flop.

I grinned running in circles as I flipped over the shoe. Seven and a half.

"You whore!" I screamed, giggling as I took off toward her house.

She bounced off the bed, chasing after me. I turned out of my bedroom, skidding slightly as carpet turned into hardwood flooring in the hallway. "Forehead-girl! You said you didn't like them!"

My feet pounded down the curvature of my stair steps, skipping some on the way down. Ino glared at me from the upstairs balcony, looking downward at me, standing defiantly in the middle of my foyer. She grimaced, "Are you _really _going to run outside in just your socks?"

I shrugged, stepping toward my door on tiptoe. I placed my hand on my door handle and tilted my head. "Are you really going to run outside barefoot with one flip-flop?"

I took off running then, pink hair flowing behind me in the air, trying to ignore the different feels of moistened grass—thanks to sprinklers set to spray every hour on the hour—driveway pavement, and sidewalk cement upon my socks. Ino was right behind me, struggling with hopping on one foot, too disgusted by all things outdoor and dirt to put her preciously tanned skin upon it.

"Just give me my flip-flop so we can have a fair—! Did you just throw it until the Donaldson's yard? You know they have a pit bull!" She squealed sharply, pouting. I throw my head back, laughing evilly. One should know never to mess with my shoes.

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><p><strong>EXT. YAMANAKA HOUSEHOLD <strong>

_1485 Honeydew Court_

_A blue paneled cottage-styled three to four story house with cute white accents is home to an extravagant garden. A single lawn hose snakes and camouflages slightly within the grass, a small stream of water exiting it. Wind chimes sing quietly with the breeze._

**MRS. YAMANAKA relaxes on her patio with sunglasses covering her eyes and ice tea in hand. ICHIRO draws on the sidewalk with chalk.**

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><p>I ran into the bumper of Mr. Yamanaka's Ferrari front first, thumping the metal so hard that I released an umph sound and plopped onto the grass. Dots blurred my vision and I brought my hand to my head, trying to orient myself. Three apparitions of a little blonde boy holding green sidewalk chalk filled my vision. I blinked twice. The boys blinked twice after me, a total of six until they morphed together, forming one Ichiro.<p>

His eyes were wide and a chocolate brown, concerned obviously, but in a dazed habitual way. He quirks his lip before asking, "Are you okay, Sakura-bachan?"

Before I could chastise him for referring to me as some sort of grandmother, my ears perked to the distinct sound of one barefoot and the click-clack of a flip-flop coming down the street. I struck up as if lighting slapped me across my face and surged through my bone structure.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good Ichiro-kun," I said quickly, walking through the cars in Ino's driveway. She is far too rich for her own good and she is taking my shoes. Does this make sense? No. I hop onto the patio and see Mrs. Yamanaka, who smiles maternally at me from beneath her straw hat. "How are you…," she takes the pause to analyze my condition: pink footie socks with silver glitter polka dots, grass sticking to my skin, slightly damp from both sprinklers at people's yards, grass dew, puddles and sweat. My hair was probably a hot mess, wind-blown and un-brushed.

I grin and wave awkwardly, five fingers spread and wiggling. "I'm just fantastic, Mrs. Yamanaka. If you see your daughter," her eyebrow perks, "would you tell her that I hanged myself in pity toward her existence back slash appearance?"

The woman sips her tea calmly and looks toward the left swiftly, observing flowers, and back to me. "And where and with what did you hang yourself?"

I answer with no hesitation. "The shoelaces of my sneaker heels in her shower, dangling upon the shower head. Kei-Kei found me and attempted to bite the shoelaces, hence ripping them and leaving me dead in the bathtub as I fell. She then barked and alarmed you, and you found me, and knowing the last thing I ever wanted in life, put the shoes on my feet."

"How will I explain my emotionless nature? Surely I would be distraught if I saw you in that condition."

My finger taps my chin three times. "Eh…well…you're shocked and feel as if your world has been turned inside out. Tears and other trivial shows of emotion cannot begin to show your feeling of helplessness, hopelessness, and loss of your long-lost _favorite_ daughter. Add a few sniffles for good measure."

"I will be sure to. Take off your soggy socks before you muddy the carpet, Sakura-chan," she assures, eyes lit with humor.

I bow out the waist, "Arigatou!"

I turn on my heel and grasp the curved golden handle of the front door. Opening it, the first little thing greeting me is Kei-Kei, Ino's Yorkshire terrier, clipped claws scratching against the tiled floors in rhythm serving as a warning. I crouched down and picked her up, cuddling. She kisses me lovingly as I slide around the marble to the kitchen. I pour myself a glass of water with one hand and drink with appreciation. Cold and smooth going down my throat, I sigh happily once I swallow.

Her tail wags excitedly and she looks out the window. I glance and see Ino, attempting to climb over her white picket fence and enter her house through the back. Oh, so she was planning a sneak attack upon me. I turn my nose up and dump my empty glass in the sink. "Come on, Kei, I have to fake my suicide," I say, placing the dog on the floor.

I skip up the stairs quickly with Kei-Kei at my heels. My mind leads my body to the room that I can honestly call my second bedroom without a thought. Habitually I kick a huge purple fuzzy pillow out of the doorway and step in. Ino likes to wake up with a pillow clutched in her hand, and she will drop it at the doorway. She has always done that and I am sure she always will. Her closet is the first door to the right. Her _shoe_ closet is the second door. I open it and see nothing.

My world spirals into an oblivion. When did she do this? Where are the shoes?

The sound of a creaky window snaps my head toward Ino's balcony. A scream dies in my throat upon seeing the blonde girl, hip popped, arms crossed, flip-flop broken at the Y-shaped toe thingy in her hand, mud slashed across her face and chest heaving. She wonders why I forget she won the mile record time two years in a row in school. Her nostrils flare. "You bitch," she seethes, blue eyes devilish, "I had to wrestle the Donaldson Devil for my fucking shoe that you _know_ Heidi Klum signed and I got it back only to lose the other one in that _stupid _pond that nobody even fucking fishes at!"

"How'd you manage that?" I ask, honestly intrigued. Kei-Kei circles her bed—a cute pink pillow with a crown embroidered in gold onto the surface—and plops, sensing that this will be a long story.

She grins, reminiscing before laughing. "So, like, there was this really hot guy outside hanging out at the White's house…"

"Genevieve's cousin, yeah?"

"Yeah, him," she recalls, "yeah, so I was, like, staring at his sexiness, walking around their pond, looking hot and whatever. We were so into each other, just staring into the other's eyes, then out of nowhere he's like 'Watch out!', and I'm like, 'For what?' so I turn and there's this evil _goose_ duck hybrid thing and it's running straight toward me. So, yes; I sacrifice my shoe not signed by Heidi."

I tell her that she has a way with animals and she rolls her eyes, strolling to her princess. I tune out her monologue about how Kei-Kei is the only animal for her in the whole entire world, that she is the light at the end of her tunnel, and without her, her life would be nothing but dog-less. When she finishes rubbing the life out of the caramel toned terrier, I am filing my nails with one of her files.

She sits down upon her unmade bed cross-legged and sighs before falling backward, head landing on a pillow. "Sit next to me, ho," she demands.

I plop on the soft mattress, green eyes trained upon a nail that refuses to let itself turn into a presentable, filed square. My lips slide apart, "What?" I ask.

"Do you remember that time when Shikamaru asked me out, you know, eighth grade graduation?" Her voice is uncharacteristically soft, and I stopped my incessant filing. My mouth was ajar in shock while I looked at her. There she was, eyes unfocused, fingers fiddling with the ends of her hair timidly. The image makes me think that she is more than serious and I nod once the gap in response grows long and she glances up toward me to make sure I was paying attention, as if to ask 'Well?'

My shoulders move up and down in a shrug. "Yeah, you told him that you couldn't see him as more than a friend or brother and that anything further would be awkward for you and that you were sorry."

Ino hums in a melancholy fashion. "I saw him the other day, you know, Friday. He was with this other blonde girl—tan, tall, curvy—that looks just like I do except with some meat and grit."

Normally I would accuse her of being jealous of a slut-bag, but she looked serious, a thoughtful look in her eyes. I remained silent until she released a tight breath. "Yeah, so I saw them and went up to say hi. The girl got all surprised, like, 'Oh, Shika-kun, is this that girl you were telling me about? The rich one that wouldn't go out with you because you were…what'd she say…trailer trash?'"

I could no longer remain quiet. "But you didn't call him trailer trash," I say confidently, talking with my hands, emphasizing each word. When she just looked at me sadly, I repeated the statement with less vigor, in more of a question. "You didn't, did you, Ino?"

She nods softly.

"But I didn't say trailer trash," she says quickly before I could explode in anger. The majority of our best friends live on the 'other side of the railroad tracks'. "I just said that he probably wouldn't be as accepted because of the financial stature of him and his family and that I need more than a dandelion he picked from the ground as persuasion if he ever wanted to snag me."

My heart breaks for Shikamaru. "How could you do that? Ino, that is beyond rude," I criticize, concentrating on keeping my voice low, "No wonder he doesn't come over with the rest of the guys anymore."

Ino sits up and undoes her ponytail, shaking free long locks. When the process is complete, she calls for Kei-Kei who obediently climbs onto the bed and into her lap. Seconds later, she shrugs. "Yeah, I know. I've been thinking about the whole thing a lot, Sakura-chan. I just want to say sorry, be friends again. I miss him."

The words hang in the air heavily for counts before Kei-Kei whines, wanting rubs. I am thankful for the squeaky bark for once, as it breaks the tension like a hammer to glass. We pretend the event was never spoken about for hours afterward, simply watching television, doing each other's nails, and laughing at old pictures from past yearbooks. By mid-afternoon, we are out of ideas on what to do with our time.

"Let's do something we haven't done in awhile," I advise, looking up at the white ceiling. My hands are behind my head and my feet dangle over the edge of the bed, cotton balls between each toe as the nails dry.

A noise close to a scoff but far from annoyance exits Ino's mouth. "Like what? We can play dress up or something?"

I laugh. "No, Boar-chan; talking about Shikamaru reminded me of how long it's been since we actually crossed the border."

"I don't want to see him."

My eyebrows crunch before I wave it away as nothing I want to know about. "You don't want to see Kiba either? Or Naruto? TenTen?"

The list of names is barely started when my best friend groans. "We see them everyday at school."

"Yeah, walking in opposite directions to the same place."

"We don't have any classes with _them_, Sakura. You know that."

The wind is knocked out of me. "Them? _Them_? Our friends, you mean? Those people that we used to hang out with everyday in middle school? I was being metaphorical. It's as if we see each other and purposefully try to avoid the other."

Ino rolls her baby blue eyes dramatically. "Okay, Sakura, I understand how you feel completely but, let's be serious here—they aren't our friends anymore and you know why. They can't be. They're…," her nose wrinkles in search for the word.

"Poor," I answer for her, tongue thick on the word.

She shakes her head and says no but her body language, stiffness of her neck, and slight upturn of her nose give away the true answer. Kei-Kei looks upwards and spares a glance at the two of us, and cries, burying her face under her paws. I wish I could do just that but I suffice with clearing my throat, grabbing my socks in the process.

Ino looks at me, confused. "My mom is probably wondering where I'm at," I say, a lie that will get me out of her house quickly, "Send my shoes by one day if you think about it, kay? I'll see you at school tomorrow." Out of habit, I smile, and she smiles back, waving. It's awkward and forced.

Plodding down the steps, I think about putting on my socks but decide against it, both because my toe nails are still drying and I think a nice barefoot walk home will do me some good.

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><p><em>AN: _Review!


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